


Red is the Color I Paint You in My Sketchbooks With

by Zaikyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaikyo/pseuds/Zaikyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just isn't enough to watch you bleed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red is the Color I Paint You in My Sketchbooks With

**Author's Note:**

> All my rage went straight into this, oh God.

There's blood in it, Sam knows. Boiling and crimson and soaking up everything in his eyes. There's blood in that once empathetic stare, and it's just so damn clouding.

Resentment. Anger. Humiliation.

Hatred.

He was giving it all to the Devil, despite the fact that' in a sane reality, Satan was the last person Sam wanted to give anything to.

Lucifer deserved nothing. Not his time, not his fury, not his breath. He was the reason for everything falling apart in the world, in _Sam's_ world. The least Sam could do was ignore him.

But Sam had lost that ability a while ago. Now the smiling Devil held all of his attention and then some.

Say yes? Say, _yes_? Who the hell was he to ask— no— to _demand_ something— anything from Sam? Everyone he had ever loved, gone. For the sake of a war that wasn't even his.

It wasn't fair. It _wasn't fucking fair._ And now this.

_"Everything I've done; it was all for you, Sam. All of it."_

Bull _shit._ If Sam could just— Oh if he could just take a swing at him.

But no, he had. He had taken a swing. He'd taken several swings in fact, all of which the Devil took, unopposed. Willingly. Bloody and bruised and warped but it just _wasn't enough._ No matter how hard Sam hit, it didn't change a thing. No matter how he glared with nothing but dull red and hate, _nothing changed._

Including Lucifer.

Lucifer was still Lucifer. Evil, manipulative, selfish, vindictive, wrong. Lucifer still had the same agenda, the same lack of morals, of principle. Lucifer was still going to waste this world and everyone in it. And Lucifer still wanted Sam. He still expected him to say yes.

Of all the God awful—

Just, shit.

And Sam felt it build there. The anger and the pain and the sheer _helplessness._ With the Devil pinned hard between him and the wall, he felt it rise up and boil over into something utterly sickening. A dark hole with no light to be found for miles.

He let loose a sound deep in his chest, nothing even remotely humanistic about it all, and seized the Devil's lips with his own. Holding them. _Crushing them._

He felt Lucifer's smile fall away with an almost alarming immediacy.

 _Yes._ This was how it would be.

Sam pushed harder into the Devil's frame, biting down with screaming rage on his bottom lip.

Blood. And it was bitter to the sweetest note.

He felt Lucifer give in and wilt under his weight. His _control._ And for the time being Sam couldn't care less if it was all a show. If Lucifer was just appeasing him, and pacifying his rage.

Because Lucifer had to pay. He had to compensate. Because he deserved this and so much more. Because Sam could only see red.

And red was the color of hatred. And passion.

And Lucifer.


End file.
